


Bacon Chasers (Repeat Offender): Green Means Go

by Beltenebra



Series: Bacon Chasers [2]
Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Cop Fetish, Fast Cars, M/M, Mouthy Bottom, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sassy, Sex in a Car, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-06 01:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8730175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beltenebra/pseuds/Beltenebra
Summary: When Hina fights authority, everybody wins.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a ridiculous AU Yoko/Hino one-shot called Pigheaded that we referred to as Bacon Chasers. A while later a friend and I found ourselves at a diner in the middle of the night and we started talking about how other encounters along the same lines might go down, so to speak. A burger later and I realized that this thing might have to be a series. So... this is the second installment.

Yoko was already two pints ahead of him when he rolled into their favorite bar. He also appeared to have already ordered snacks. Ohkura surveyed the array of plates with satisfaction and supposed he would forgive Yoko just this once. He slid onto his usual stool, pulling his hair back in preparation for some serious eating and drinking. 

He snatched a still-steaming gyoza and popped it into his mouth, muttering around the pork, "You got a head start tonight. I'm on time and everything." 

Yoko just shook his head, "I needed a few more than usual, I've had a really weird week." 

"Just as long as you realize that I refuse to haul your ass out of the bar. I'll call your partner to come and put you to bed. Besides which, I _know_ you weren't seeing any action on highway duty." 

Yoko choose that moment to attempt to breathe beer and sputtered loudly while Ohkura calmly took another dumpling, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.

"It's funny you should say that... Ok, I'm going to tell you something," Yoko sighed a bit into his glass, turning to give Ohkura a rueful little smile. "You aren't going to believe this..." Ohkura just pulled a dish of kimchi closer and lazily waved his chopsticks in a universal gesture of 'get on with it, already'. 

"Ok, so I was on highway duty, right? And it's dead, nothing is happening. Then out of the blue this guy just _flies_ by me and, oh man, the car is _beautiful_ , I would have pulled him over just to get a closer look at it. But I actually pull him over for speeding and when I do, the guy starts coming on to me." 

He can tell Ohkura is still listening because at this point his chopsticks pause between the dish and his mouth and he turns his head just enough so that Yoko can see his extremely skeptical expression. 

"I know, trust me. But I figure people have probably done stranger things to get out of paying fines. The thing is, he doesn't let up. Turns out he has a _thing_ for cops." 

Ohkura snorts his amusement into his beer and Yoko can feel the blush on his cheeks but he continues, "So, yeah. I kind of...maybecuffedhimandscrewedhimupagainstthecruiserinbroaddaylight." 

"Kind of what?! Wait." The chopsticks were slammed down, Yoko merely nodded and went back to his beer. 

"Oh no, no, no. You can't just leave it at that. I'm going to need details." Yoko scowled and Ohkura batted wide, innocent eyes back at him. 

A few minutes of hushed but detailed description later, Yoko's cheeks were flaming and Ohkura was quietly chuckling to himself, "Much as I hate to admit when you're right... you're right, I don't believe you. Were you watching porn on your iPod again? You were. You were watching porn and you fell asleep."

"Not this time, I swear!"

"Is this some kind of elaborate plan to switch your shifts around or something? If so, I think you will find it's far too subtle and clever to work around here." 

Yoko growled his annoyance and ordered another round. "Fine. Don't believe me, I don't care. But I wouldn't be at all surprised if we see this guy again. You should make a note: black Camaro, Murakami Shingo." 

"Hai, hai." 

He shrugged, having fulfilled what he considered the fullest extent of his friend and co-workerly duties. His smile gleamed in the dim light of the bar, "Right, so new topic. What kind of stunt are you going to pull that could possibly top our banana Jello prank?" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Approximately two weeks later, Ohkura found himself parked in the lot of a strip mall, chugging coffee and trying to stay awake. He was on routine traffic patrol so he didn't even have any company to distract him. He had never been particularly good at the middle-of-the-night shifts. He had made several very well reasoned arguments pointing out that having people on duty to prevent crime only works if they are in some way alert. Although the corollary remarks about his beauty sleep had probably hurt his case. Stupid mandatory shift rotation. 

He was weighing the pros and cons of text-spamming Nishikido when he heard the rumble of an engine. He looked up to see a low, black car slink down the street. It rolled up to the red light and even though he was right there on the side of the road, parked in a pool of light, as obvious as possible in his patrol car, the driver didn't stop. Well, not exactly. The car paused at the light for a moment, like the driver was considering, and then drove right through. 

Bastard, that meant actual work. With a grumble, he fired up his engine and pulled out after the other car. He flipped his lights on but didn’t bother with the siren, the black sports car pulled over right away, gliding gracefully to a stop. The driver hadn’t sped up or anything after he ran the light, it’s like the guy wanted to get caught. 

Yoko’s warning from a few weeks ago pinged softly in the back of his mind. Black sports car… but Yoko had totally been pulling his leg. He had to have been. He was getting all freaked out over nothing. He got out of his car and paused at the rear bumper of the sports car. It was a Camaro. There had to be more than one black Camero in their part of the city, right? That is, if Yoko’s “cop guy” was even real, which Ohkura was sure he wasn’t. 

The driver looked up at him with a friendly smile when he approached the window. It was a nice smile; it went well with his gorgeous eyes. Ohkura stomped down the part of his brain that was already busy casting them in the classic porn scenario. Damn Yoko and his insidious powers of suggestion. He smoothed his features into his best stern-cop-face. “You know you ran a red light back there. I’ll need to see your ID.” 

The guy didn’t look at all perturbed as he dug his wallet out of his pocket. “Yeah, I don’t know what came over me.” He looked back up and Ohkura swore he caught a gleam of mischief in those warm, brown eyes as he leaned forward, “Ever just get the uncontrollable urge to break the law, you know, just a little, Officer… Ohkura?” 

Ohkura took the proffered ID and rolled his eyes, “Sure, all the time. That’s why I became a police officer, to avoid temptation. Do you do these kinds of things often… Murakami-san?” 

He froze as soon as the name was out of his mouth, double-checking the ID card. Murakami. Murakami Shingo. Shit. Maybe Yoko hadn’t been suffering from hallucinations brought on by a lack of sex and a surplus of boredom after all. 

He tried to ignore the voice in his head that was now recalling the few details Yoko shared at the bar and lamenting that he hadn’t asked more pertinent questions. 

Murakami was still smiling at him, “Are you alright, officer?” 

Ohkura glared at him, irritated with himself and his over-active imagination. “Peachy.” 

“You look tense.” Murakami blinked up at him innocently. 

He should just write the ticket, he should write the ticket and send the guy on his way. Far away. The situation was really too ridiculous to believe. The guy couldn’t possibly actually be trying to seduce him. It was probably some elaborate joke of Yoko’s, Murakami was probably one of Maruyama’s friends from his college theatre days or something. They guy would have been instructed to come on to him and then they would all have a laugh later at Ohkura’s expense when he got all flustered and jumpy. 

Well, screw that. He made up his mind. He was going to play along, make sure he was in control of the situation and then he would be the one laughing when the guy freaked out and couldn’t go through with it. This would be a fun game. 

He allowed himself a quick grin before smoothing his features and turning back to Murakami. “I have some questions to ask you, Murakami-san. I’m going to have to ask you to step out of your vehicle.” 

Murakami seemed only too pleased to comply. He smiled expectantly at Ohkura, clearly awaiting questions or further orders. 

Ohkura narrowed his eyes, looking for any signs that the guy was getting nervous. He walked back to his car and opened the back door, “I’ll need you to have a seat here, Murakami-san.” 

Murakami nodded and slid in, looking around with a grin, “I’ve never been in the back of a patrol car before. It’s pretty exciting.” 

Despite his better judgment, Ohkura slid in after him and closed the door. He moved over so he was right up in Murakami’s face, using the few inches of height he had on the other man to loom just a little threateningly. Murakami didn’t hesitate at all to face him; their lips were almost close enough to touch. 

Ohkura was sure that if he pushed just a little bit more, the guy would crack like an egg. He let his voice drop, low and husky, “So, you really enjoy breaking the law, Murakami-san? Are you prepared for the consequences?” Before Murakami could react, he closed the distance between them and kissed the other man, sure that this would be the last straw and Murakami would push him away. 

Not only did Murakami _not_ push him away, he slid an arm around Ohkura’s waist, pulling him even closer, and opened his mouth to Ohkura’s with a muffled groan. Ohkura’s brain registered several facts simultaneously: there was now a very low probability that this was in any way Yoko’s doing, he was kissing someone in the back of his patrol car while on duty, and Murakami was absolutely wicked with his tongue. He had to do something. His brain offered up some options, one of which included disposing of these pesky clothes. He should stop. 

He pulled away, still trying to process what exactly was going on. Murakami’s grin was lascivious as he took in the sight of Ohkura stunned and panting. Ohkura was still a little fuzzy on how he should proceed from here when Murakami leaned in to purr in his ear, "Going to take me downtown, officer?" 

He had an incredible voice, rich and husky, but it was the hand sliding down the front of Ohkura’s pants that pulled him out of his daze. He pushed Murakami away with both hands and slid back away from the man. Well, as far as he could get in the back seat of a car, anyway. 

He regarded Murakami with confusion, “You’re serious about this.” 

“Well, yeah. Man, I though this was going too well, I didn’t have to talk you into it or anything.” Murakami still seemed perfectly cheerful, not at all perturbed by any aspect of the situation. 

He glared back at Murakami, he was perturbed enough for both of them. ”I don’t like being manipulated.” 

“Do you like getting laid?” the other man offered with a grin. 

“That is really not entirely the point here, pal.” 

“Well do you like getting laid more than you dislike being manipulated?” Murakami countered in a reasonable tone, like he was offering commentary on which newspaper to buy or something. The man was completely shameless. He ratcheted up the flirtatious smile a notch and continued, “You’re an incredibly attractive man, Officer Ohkura, you can’t really blame me for trying.” 

Damn his susceptibility to flattery. He couldn’t believe this guy. Ohkura growled under his breath and grabbed Murakami’s collar, trying to resist the urge to shake him a little “Cops. You really follow cops around just so you can screw them? That's just... it's so...” 

”Despicable? Reprehensible?” Murakami suggested, still seemingly at ease. 

That was it. Ohkura slammed Murakami back against the door, not hard enough to hurt him, just hard enough to make him react, to wipe that confident smile off his face. "Fucking hot." 

He was rewarded with Murakami’s eyes going wide and startled. He enjoyed the reaction for a few seconds before swooping back in and taking the man’s mouth in a hard kiss. Murakami made a soft noise of encouragement and let his legs fall open so he could pull Ohkura closer. 

This time it was his own hands dropping down to unbuckle Murakami’s belt that startled him back to the situation at hand. He didn’t move away this time but he stopped kissing the man long enough to point out one of the more pressing problems with this course of action. “We can’t do this here. It may be the middle of the night, but this is still the middle of a very public street. The city doesn't sleep _that_ well.” 

Murakami panted into his neck, Ohkura was pleased that he seemed at least as worked up as he was. “The street may be public but the lot behind the sketchy liquor store over there probably isn't. Not _very_ public anyway." 

Ohkura peered across the street. The lot was dark and he knew the area well enough to know that there weren’t any cameras around. "Works for me." 

Somehow he managed to get into the driver's seat, across the street, and into the back seat again without letting his better judgment sneak in and spoil the mood. He was sure that the sight of Murakami smoldering through the grill separating them, shimmying out of his clothes, and the stream of filthy suggestions he was murmuring had something to do with it. 

He had parked them in the shadows but there was enough ambient light that he could still see fairly well. Murakami was completely nude by the time Ohkura slid into the back and the man had a body that was definitely worth some visual appreciation. 

Ohkura trailed his fingers lightly down the deep lines of Murakami's abdominals, enjoying the way the firm muscles shivered ever so slightly at his touch. He started to push Murakami down onto the seat when the other man smirked and maneuvered Ohkura down instead. Ohkura raised an eyebrow in inquiry, he had gotten the idea that Murakami was more interested in being on the receiving end of things. 

Murkami threw a leg over Ohkura's hips to straddle his waist, pressing his ass down on Ohkura's trapped erection, wringing a groan out of both of them before moving back just far enough to get Ohkura's pants open. Murakami smiled sunnily down at him, “You just lay back and let me do the hard work.” 

Ohkura took a moment to wonder if personal fantasies really did come true. He had been ambushed by an incredibly hot guy who really just wanted to fuck him and he didn't even have to get off of his ass to do it. Was Yoko's encounter with the guy just as personalized? Did Murakami have some kind of list or dossier on them? He seemed to have been expecting Ohkura. 

By this point, Murakami had Ohkura's pants undone and pushed down around his knees and was reaching behind himself with one hand moving in a way that was impossible to mistake. It was kind of unfair, the man should have looked impossibly awkward balancing up on his knees with one hand splayed across Ohkura's chest, his back ever so slightly arched, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. He looked edible. Ohkura sat up far enough to sink his teeth into the solid muscle of Murakami's shoulder earning him a throaty moan. 

He worked his way up Murakami's throat and was nuzzling his jaw when a slick hand on his cock distracted him. Murakami's grin gleamed in the darkness when he pulled back and Ohkura heard himself whimper softly at the loss of contact. 

He didn't have long to wait. A moment later Murakami positioned himself and sank down onto Ohkura with a soft, satisfied curse. Ohkura must have been more worked up than he realized, the suddenness of the whole situation, the setting, and the man's incredible heat had him nearly coming right away. He dug his fingers hard into Murakami's hips and bit down on his own lip, trying to hold out. Murakami stayed still for a moment, looking down at him with eyes full of banked fire. 

"Ok?" he questioned softly. At Ohkura's answering nod, he smiled and started to move. He began by rocking his hips ever so slightly, hardly seeming to move at all although Ohkura could feel the firm pull of his flesh as he slid in and out. Ohkura took the opportunity to reach up and smooth a hand over Murkami's torso, pinching a nipple to make him gasp. 

It was a bit of a game. Murakami was taking his time, clearly waiting to see how long Ohkura would hold out and let him set the pace. Ohkura was enjoying the chance to run his hands over the other man's body, down his stomach, up over his strong shoulders, stroking down powerful thighs. Murakami had clearly underestimated how long Ohkura was willing to wait. He was the one who approached Ohkura, if Murakami wanted him he was going to have to work for it. It was hard not to react when Murakami was hot and tight and perfect but Ohkura was notoriously stubborn. 

Murakami fisted a hand in his collar, hauling him up for a deep kiss. The slight change in position must have been good because Murakami gasped into the kiss and Ohkura could almost taste his victory. He braced himself with one hand and squeezed Murakami's perfect ass with the other and thrust his hips up just the tiniest bit and that was it. Murakami choked on his breath and slammed his hips down. 

Suddenly Ohkura found himself flat on his back just trying to hold on as Murakami worked over him, bringing them together with fast, powerful strokes. He was swamped in pleasure, the pressure nearly overwhelming. Murakami looked incredible, his eyes closed and his head thrown back. He was panting harshly in time with his thrusts, with one hand planted against the roof above his head and the other working his own cock. 

Ohkura thought he was doing admirably well, holding the fire threatening to overwhelm him at bay until Murakami looked down, those dark eyes locked onto his, and tightened around him. Ohkura felt himself slide over the edge; he felt his lips jerk up involuntarily as the fire tore through his body; he heard the low cry ripped from his throat and Murakami's echoed moan. Murakami lost it just after, streaking his abdomen and hand with his own come before slumping down onto Ohkura's chest. 

Murakami exhaled a contented little sigh and cuddled his chin into Ohkura's shoulder. The whole situation was so ridiculous Ohkura couldn't help but chuckle to himself and Murakami joined in a few moments later. 

He sat up just enough that Ohkura could look him in the eye and grinned down, "So, you had fun after all?" 

Ohkura rolled his eyes, “What do you think? I’m still writing you a ticket, though.” 

Murakami's smile reflected no repentance whatsoever, “Totally worth it.” 

“Freak.” Ohkura responded without much conviction. 

Murakami didn’t seem perturbed. He shrugged a little “Yeah, probably. But having a fetish for hot cops makes more sense than something like boring office ladies and you find that all over the place." 

Ohkura couldn't see any good reason to disagree. He thought about some of his co-workers, they weren't exactly an unattractive bunch of guys. He mused as Murakami got dressed, who would be most likely (besides Yoko, of course) to believe this story. Telling the section chief was as good as asking for a suspension, the clerks would just call him a pervert… but maybe Yoko hadn't told his own partner yet and they were having lunch next week. Perfect. 

He escorted Murakami back to his car and presented him his ticket with a flourish. "Now you be sure to be on your best behavior, Murakami-san. We wouldn't want to have to bring you down to the station." 

Ohkura laughed out loud at the slightly glazed look of a man contemplating paradise. Murakami shook himself out of his daze and winked as he revved his engine, "Don't worry, officer, I won't run any more red lights. I prefer green.


End file.
